Some Little Girls
by sleepyvalentina
Summary: Happily married and expecting her first child, Bella has everything she's always wanted. So why is she so scared? History doesn't have to repeat itself. Final installment in the Art After 5 universe.
1. Prologue

I don't own _Twilight_.

This is a Fandom Gives Back novella that takes place roughly eight years after the conclusion of _Art After 5_. Serendipitous, IngenueFic, and Arfalcon won oneshots and wanted a glimpse of Edward and Bella as parents. Pregnancy is kind of gross; moments of this story will be, too.

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_Prologue_

_Some Little Girls_

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Some little girls get tucked into bed every night. Their parents read them bedtime stories and kiss their skinned knees. They grow up hearing that they are smart and beautiful, and no matter what happens when they are out in the big, bad world, they can always go home where they will feel valued and cherished.

They are surrounded by love and know how to return it. As preschoolers, they practice with baby dolls they treat as if they were living, breathing children. They name them, dress them, change them, even pretend to nurse them. Some little girls are born knowing how to nurture, and when instinct fails them, they use their own observations to fill in the blanks.

When the time comes for some little girls to have their own children, they know what to do—emulate their own mothers and fathers. When they doubt themselves, they have role models to fall back on. Ultimately, they are able to dismiss their fears because they know how to raise a child to be a functional adult. The idea that they are turning into their mothers gives some women reassurance.

Five years into our marriage, Edward and I agreed it was time. His residency was beginning to wind down, and he was slowly getting some free time back. We'd worked out most of the kinks in our relationship, and we were closer and more bonded to each other than we'd ever been. The day I went to my ob/gyn to have my IUD removed I was excited—almost giddy—at the prospect of trying to conceive. The only thing left to do was go home and have lots and lots of sex, something we did anyway.

Except now making love had a purpose beyond our own gratification. Pregnancy was my goal, and I didn't look much beyond that until the day my period was late. I ran out and bought a pregnancy test, which I took the second Edward returned home from the hospital. A plus sign formed in the results window, and Edward and I were ecstatic. It wasn't until I lay in bed that night, my hand resting against my stomach, that it hit me. Having a baby meant becoming a mother.

My single greatest fear was that I would turn into mine.


	2. First Trimester: Part One

I don't own _Twilight._

_For A, S & M  
_

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_**Some Little Girls**_

_**First Trimester: Part One**_

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As we sat in the waiting area of my OB/GYN, Edward seemed a million miles away. I stared at him in silence for several moments, eventually resigning myself to the fact that I would never be able to fully understand what went on inside his head.

"You have a strange look on your face," I said.

He turned to me and smiled. "I was thinking about the first time I came here with you, the week after our first date. Do you remember that?"

I nodded. "I couldn't believe you _wanted_ to come here with me. It _still _seems surreal, even all these years later."

"I would go anywhere with you." He took my hand and brought it to his lips. "Though that afternoon contained the most stressful moments of my life—well, up until then, at least."

We'd just started dating and had yet to be physically intimate, but when Edward found out I was being tested for STDs, he insisted on accompanying me to my appointment. A blushing, seventeen-year-old virgin, he held my hand as I owned a past to which he'd never be able to relate—or fully understand. He was so insistent that I not confront my past alone, it never occurred to me that he'd been nervous about doing so.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes. I felt like any chance I had with you was hinging on that afternoon, that I needed to prove to you that despite the age on my driver's license, I wasn't too young to be everything you needed."

My mind conjured up an image of Edward in the early stages of our relationship—his innocence, his awkwardness, his earnest desire to please—and how desperate we both were to get to a point where age didn't matter. In the context of where we were now, our eight year age difference was once again an issue, though not in a way I'd ever thought it would be.

"Funny how that works. Now I'm perpetually terrified you'll decide I'm too old."

He looked at me confusedly.

"Advanced maternal age." I made air quotes with my free hand.

"That's an applicable medical term, not society passing judgment. It isn't a big deal, but there are some additional risks we need to be aware of because we waited–"

"You mean because I made you wait."

"No, I mean because _we_ waited. If I knew you'd take such offense to it, I wouldn't have brought it up. I just thought it would be better for you to hear it from me. I know how sensitive you are about this, and I didn't want anything to mar this afternoon. I mean, you're having our baby, and today it becomes official."

Maybe for him. I didn't need a doctor's appointment to make my pregnancy official. The nausea and headaches I'd been experiencing were confirmation enough.

The nurse called my name, and after I gave her a urine sample, she led us to an exam room. She informed me that I was indeed pregnant (thank you, Captain Obvious) and proceeded to check my weight and blood pressure. I was then directed me to undress from the waist down and cover my lap with a paper sheet. I did as she said, got back onto the exam table and waited for the doctor.

Meanwhile, Edward was downright giddy, and he was trying to peek under the sheet.

"Did you bribe the nurse to make me take my pants off?" I smacked his hand away.

"Like I don't get you naked all the time at home."

"Yes, but at home we don't have padded tables and stirrups. You could be harboring some kinky doctor fetishes that you're too embarrassed to admit."

"Right." He laughed, and picked up a wand that was attached to what looked like an ultrasound machine. "Lean back, baby. I want to stick this inside you."

"You're such a perv. Only you would see something like that and assume it gets shoved up my pussy."

"Um, Bella, I went to medical school, remember? I don't need to make assumptions about what _anything_ in this room is used for."

I studied what he was holding. It was long and narrow, and he couldn't be telling me the truth.

"I call bullshit."

Before he could respond, the doctor breezed in. She went over the notes from the nurse, then said she wanted to do an ultrasound. Sure enough, Edward was right. That long, skinny wand did indeed go _there_ but before Edward could say that he told me so, an image appeared on the screen.

It didn't look like much of anything to me, but then again, I had no idea what I was looking for.

"Everything looks good," she said. "You're seven weeks along, just like you thought. The heartbeat's strong."

"The heartbeat?" I asked.

"That's the little flicker," Edward explained, squeezing my hand. His eyes were locked on the display, a huge smile on his face. I didn't think I'd ever seen him look so happy.

When the ultrasound was finished, the doctor printed two images. She gave one to Edward and put the other in my file before firing questions at me. It seemed more than a little redundant, as they weren't any different from the ones the nurse asked me less than half an hour ago.

"Is this your first pregnancy?" she asked.

Until that one.

"Yes."

I knew it was his own uncontrollable enthusiasm that compelled Edward to answer on my behalf. I didn't hold it against him, even if it did make my admission much more uncomfortable than it needed to be.

I stared at my hands as I corrected him. "Actually, it's my second."

The doctor flipped through my chart. "When was your prior pregnancy?"

"Seventeen years ago."

"Did your first pregnancy result in a live birth?"

"No. Is this relevant?" I didn't care to discuss it, and was somewhat annoyed she couldn't just get the necessary information from my file.

"I know it can be painful for you to discuss, but knowing your comprehensive medical history can make us better prepared to identify potential issues before they get out of control."

"It should be in there. I've been coming to this practice for years; surely you have all that information."

She continued to page through my file. "There's no record of it. It will just take a few minutes to bring our information up to date."

Had I really spent the first half of my twenties in that much denial?

Though it was strange to think I would have let that affect my honesty when relating something as crucial as my medical history, it wasn't at all surprising—just really fucking inconvenient. Today was supposed to be happy.

"How far along were you when you miscarried?" she asked.

"I didn't."

She nodded and scribbled. Her professional demeanor betrayed no emotion or judgment, so I focused on her rather than meet Edward's gaze. After relating what seemed to be an insane amount of unnecessary information, she told us we were done for today, but she wanted to see me again in three weeks.

I avoided making eye contact with Edward as we made our way out to the car, but he wouldn't let me get away with this for long. He followed me to the passenger side where rather than open my door, he trapped me between it and his body.

"Look at me, Bella."

I folded my arms across my chest before meeting his gaze.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was excited, and I just didn't think."

"Then why give me the silent treatment? You had to know it would make me feel like you were judging me."

He sighed. "I didn't say anything because I was terrified I'd fuck up again and say the wrong thing. If I_ did_ seem judgmental, it wasn't at all intentional. Your reaction is valid, and I'm sorry I made you feel that way."

The most annoying thing about being married to a psychiatrist was the constant textbook rhetoric.

"Can we have this conversation sans shrink talk and not in the parking lot of my OB?"

"Okay." He stepped to the side and opened my door. "But just so you know, avoidance tactics won't work."

I snorted as I sat in the car. If there was one thing I'd learned in the past seven or so years we'd been living together, it was that there was no way out of uncomfortable conversations. Edward was convinced the long-term success of our relationship was dependent on meeting things head-on, rather than burying them. He was right, but that didn't make doing this any easier. I spent the drive home flipping through the stack of pregnancy-related material while trying not to succumb to my overwhelming sense of dread. Deciding it was a lost cause, I dropped it on my lap. I flipped the pile over when I noticed the one titled _Pregnancy After 35: What You Should Know_ was on top.

Edward picked up where we left off as soon as we were inside the house.

"Though I will never again presume to answer on your behalf at one of your prenatal appointments, all of this—the feelings, the memories, the fear—would have come up at some point regardless."

"Could you at least let me take off my shoes? I mean, we've been home all of thirty seconds–"

"Actually, we've been home one minute and twelve seconds."

It was just Edward being Edward—his brilliant mind had its own metronome and perpetually counted beats, giving him an almost eerie awareness of time. I realized that any pain from the conversation we were about to have would be fleeting; his love for me was not.

"If we don't deal with this now, it's going to get out of control," he said in a much softer voice.

"Do you ever have moments where you think, 'Holy mother of fuck, what have I done?'"

"Everyone does." He sat down on the couch and pulled me onto his lap.

"I mean, we're going to be have a baby. You and me. Doesn't that make you nervous at all?"

"Of course I'm nervous. Parenting is a huge responsibility, but I've never questioned my ability to do it."

"That's the thing—I have. Once upon a time, I went to the bathroom and peed on a stick. When I found the courage to actually look at the thing, I saw there were two lines where I'd prayed there'd be only one. I pondered the enormity of what I was facing, and in a moment of desperation, I called my mother."

Edward's nod reminded me that I didn't have to talk about it if I didn't want to, that he remembered all too well the advice my mother gave me—that her biggest regret in life was having me at eighteen and the best thing I could do was get rid of the baby. As much as her words hurt me, they enabled me to make the decision I did without regret. In those days, I'd often wished I'd never been born. I believed wholeheartedly that this would have been better for all parties involved—myself included—so I made the choice that my mother _should _have. Since my ex-boyfriend wanted nothing to do with me, my best friend, Alice, drove me to the clinic and funded the procedure with her allowance.

"You are not your mother, Bella."

"I know that." But didn't we all turn into our parents?

He cupped my face in his hands. "Do you?"

"I know I should have asked you this before I had my IUD removed, but do you really want to have a baby with someone who has a history of pondering motherhood and deciding she isn't up to it?"

"_Then_. You weren't up to it _then_. Everything is different now. You're out of school, you're financially secure, you have a husband who worships you. You're not having a baby—_we _are."

"You know that if I hadn't..." I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud, so I just gave up. "I don't regret it. Does that make me awful?"

"No. Just...honest. Regret is a useless sentiment; none of us have the power to change the past."

He was right, and I knew it. Still, I felt like I needed to mourn—this time, as an adult aware of the consequences of her actions, not as a frightened little girl who believed life was a punishment.

"How can I make this better for you?" he asked.

"Just hold me."

And he did. Though I cried hours into the night, not once did he loosen his embrace—that was the beauty of what we'd become. Everything I had was his and because he cherished it all, he took equal ownership of my love and my shame—the good with the bad—and would do so as long as he could breathe. It was a promise he made to me long before we exchanged rings. His unwavering acceptance of me rendered any verbal reassurance unnecessary.

I wasn't in this alone.


	3. First Trimester: Part Two

I don't own _Twilight_.

Just an FYI- Pregnancy is counted from the date of your last period. So though Bella is eight weeks pregnant in this chapter, she conceived six weeks ago.

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happy birthday, linsey.

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First Trimester:

Part Two

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Edward's mother, Esme, has always given me far more credit than I deserved. Once she got over her initial shock that her son was dating a woman eight years his senior who taught at the high school from which he'd graduated a scant two weeks prior, she welcomed me into their lives. Though she later admitted she was not as comfortable with Edward and my relationship as she pretended, ultimately, she was pragmatic enough to know that she couldn't stop him from seeing me. Wanting to get a read on what would motivate a twenty-four year-old woman to pursue a romantic relationship with her seventeen-year-old son, she invited me to their vacation home for Fourth of July weekend. By the end of the summer, I'd gained not only her approval, but her love. It was almost like having a mother, except if Edward and I ever broke up, I'd have to give her back.

A few months later, I did. More accurately, because no one had ever chosen to stay with me, I was certain no one ever would. In a split second of selfishness, I convinced myself the selfless thing to do was to let Edward go. I remember the exact moment I realized what I'd done. My front door let out a moan-like creak as it closed behind him, and when the antique lock latched into place, the finality of its snap echoed through my empty living room.

It was almost as if I could hear Edward's heart breaking.

As much as I wanted to follow him, to tell him I loved him and that I was acting out of fear, I couldn't. I knew I'd only hurt him again.

In the year that followed, I missed Esme every bit as much as I missed Edward. I'd been alone before, but this time it was different. I now knew that love—both romantic and familial—was real. I longed for it with an intensity I couldn't begin to articulate, but I knew I didn't deserve to be on the receiving end until I learned how to reciprocate. I went to therapy; I worked on myself. I realized that just because the woman who gave birth to me didn't value me, I was not without value. I also learned how in an attempt to save myself, I'd done nothing more than perpetuate the cycle.

I wrote to Edward and told him that I loved him and that I was sorry, and eventually we reconciled. To Esme's credit, she didn't hold my actions against me.

"A mother's love is unconditional," she said, "and as far as I'm concerned, you're my daughter."

Nothing meant as much to Esme as Edward and my happiness, and she never once pestered us about when we'd expand our family. She offered advice only if I asked for it. Despite her many professional accomplishments, she considered motherhood to be one of the greatest experiences of her life and doubted she'd feel as fulfilled if she hadn't had the experience of raising Edward. This being established, she never assumed for a moment that I would feel the same way—after all, despite our many similarities, we were different people. Esme made it clear that if I never wanted to have children, that was a perfectly valid choice. Parenting was hard work, and I shouldn't let anyone—not society, my friends, or even her son—pressure me into it unless I was sure I was ready.

And I _was_ ready. The day I had my IUD yanked, I was positive of this. What I didn't understand was how a positive pregnancy could make me feel so negative. Knowing that on some level Esme would understand my fears, I wanted more than anything to talk to her about them. Except it wasn't possible, because Edward wouldn't let me.

Because Esme didn't know I was pregnant.

Because he refused to just fucking tell her like a normal person would.

Because he was Edward, and verbal communication was too pedestrian.

From the moment the plus sign formed underneath the pregnancy test's tiny plastic window, he'd been brainstorming clever ways to let his mother know we were expecting. Ultimately, he settled on framing a copy of the ultrasound picture, which he would clandestinely nestle among the family photos in Esme's music room. The Sunday after my first prenatal visit he put his plan into action. The necessary prop was placed, and after dinner, we adjourned to the piano where Edward proceeded to play Chopin's _Berceuse_. The only remaining part was for Esme to notice the ultrasound.

Except she didn't.

On the drive home, I suggested we turn the car around and just tell her, but Edward wouldn't hear of it.

"I put it in her favorite room of the house," he insisted. "It won't be long before it catches her eye. I mean, an ultrasound printout stands out among posed portraits. We're talking another day or two—tops. We should just wait."

So that was what we did.

We waited.

And waited.

After a week of nothing, my patience wore thin.

"Can't we just tell her?"

"No."

I knew details mattered to Edward when I married him; it was one of the reasons I loved him. Or at least, it was six weeks ago. But then I conceived his child, and his little personality quirks that I usually found endearing made me rage. My friend, Rose, told me this would happen. She referred to it as "gestation castration" and claimed that every pregnant woman wants to tear her husband's dick off at least once per day. At the time, I thought she was full of shit. I loved Edward's cock way too much to want it removed from his body, and Rose was prone to hyperbole. Except in this instance, she turned out to be right.

"Why the hell not?" I yelled.

"It's our first baby. I want to have some fun with this, to make it memorable for her."

I rolled my eyes.

"What?" he asked.

He sat next to me on the sofa and pulled my feet onto his lap. When he started to rub the tension out of my arches with his thumbs, I very nearly forgot why I was angry with him.

"Stop it. It feels way too good when you do that."

"I fail to see how making you feel good is a problem."

"Because you're doing it on purpose."

He was really starting to piss me off. I didn't have the heart to tell him the last thing he should want was my foot anywhere near his junk.

"Well...yeah. I mean, it's not like there's such a thing as an accidental foot massage."

"It's distracting me."

He folded his hands like a schoolboy and did his best to look contrite. "Sorry."

"You need to understand that it's hard for me to talk to your mother and not mention the biggest thing going on in our lives. I mean, it was one thing when we were waiting to see the heartbeat—that was about caution. I feel like I'm lying to her through omission–"

"Wait, have you even spoken to my mom at all this week? I know I haven't been able to get hold of her."

"Well, no, but–"

"Then your entire argument is based on a hypothetical. Why can't we just deal with that scenario if and when it comes up?"

"Maybe I want it to come up."

"Baby, all you have to do is _look_ at me and it comes up." He wrapped his hand around my ankle and pulled it toward his crotch. "Slide your foot a few inches to the side, and you'll feel what I mean."

I swung my legs off his lap. "I'm serious, Edward. There are specific things I want to discuss with your mother, but I can't, because she doesn't know I'm pregnant."

"And she will know, soon. In the interim, you can talk to me."

"I know," I said, but I made no move to elaborate. I didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"I'll make a deal with you. If she doesn't see the ultrasound by the end of the week, we'll just tell her. Can you make it that long?"

"Yes."

This was one of the many reasons I loved him. He knew he couldn't be everything I needed, and he didn't try. His patience was infinite as far as I was concerned—the length of our engagement proved this.

The weekend he proposed to me, he told me that he didn't want me to feel rushed or pressured, and that I could select whatever date I wanted, never imagining I would drag things out as long as I did. Everyone blamed my fear of commitment, but in reality, my reasons for spending three years as his not-quite wife were far more complex. There was no denying that my upbringing caused me to distrust marriage as an institution—a sentiment that only intensified after I read an article hypothesizing as to why psychiatrists had the highest divorce rate among physicians. Though I told Edward I was happy to be what we already were and didn't want to do anything that could alter our dynamic, but that wasn't all there was to it. More than anything, I wasn't afraid of how marriage would change us as much as I was afraid of how it would change me.

Though I loved teaching, I had become increasingly frustrated with doing so in my current district. The overwhelming majority of the student body had a sense of entitlement and lack of accountability I found mind-boggling, and the aspect of my job I treasured most seemed to no longer exist. My sense of personal fulfillment came from the fact that not only was I self-sufficient, but I also felt as if I made a difference. When the latter ceased to be the case, my ability to support myself became my only source of self-esteem—and that, too, would go away the moment Edward and I merged assets. After much soul-searching, I realized I wasn't opposed to being a married woman; I was opposed to being a woman who married well_._ Since I promised Edward I would let him pay the bills after we said our vows, there would be no practical reason for me to work at a career I disliked. I would lose my sense of self as well as my financial autonomy unless I enjoyed what I did.

At thirty years old, I was yet again figuring out what I wanted to be when I grew up. I decided that though answer hadn't changed, there was a now a slight caveat. I _would_ feel fulfilled teaching, but only if my students wanted to learn. Knowing I'd need specialized training, I enrolled in graduate school. Upon completion of my master's degree, I continued to teach grammar, but instead of disinterested ninth graders, my classroom was now filled with non-native English speakers. They wanted to start new lives so desperately, they didn't care how much work it took or what risks were involved. It was a gamble, yes, but they were betting on themselves, and they believed they could beat the odds.

The following summer, so did I. On a random Wednesday with little fanfare, Edward and I joined Esme at her shore house. That evening, I put on a long white dress and walked onto the beach, where facing the wind, I took Edward's hand. Though it was just the two of us, a justice of the peace and Esme, I wasn't without nerves or fear. When it was time to exchange rings, my fingers trembled so much I dropped his ring into the sand. Edward and I simultaneously bent down to retrieve it. The moment I felt its smooth platinum against my skin, I slid it onto his finger, so anxious to make him mine I couldn't be bothered to stand up first. We laughed as we returned to our feet, not at my gaffe, but because we'd been here before.

This time, it was different—I'd fallen onto my knees because of my haste to accept him, not as part of a pathetic attempt to avoid acknowledging his feelings. Moments later, standing on the very spot where as a blushing, seventeen-year-old boy Edward found the courage to tell me he loved me, I found the courage to make him my husband.

I never second-guessed it; I just wondered what took me so long. The sight of two rings where there'd been one has never paralyzed me with fear, nor have I ever thought even fleetingly that my marriage was destined to fail.

Why was this pregnancy so different?

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**Some Housekeeping stuff:**

If you have questions, you may find the answer on my website, sleepyvalentina DOT com.

The wedding will be written in more depth from Edward's point of view as its own oneshot. Believe me, he has a lot more to say about it than Bella does.

This piece was commissioned as part of November's Fandom Gives Back auction. At the time I was awaiting surgery and on pretty amazing pain meds, and it's safe to say I over-committed to the tune of about 200k words. I will finish everything; it's just taking longer than I thought it would. That being said, this story (as well as my others) will be finished.

Thanks for not giving up on me. Bella doesn't always cooperate with me, and I appreciate all of you who've waited patiently for this update.


	4. First Trimester: Part Three

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thanks to Bethie, for prereading and knowing my characters as well as I do.

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_First Trimester_

_Part Three_

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A few days later, when we still hadn't heard from Esme, I decided it was time to take things into my own hands. It wasn't just because I needed to tell her about the pregnancy, but this was the longest I'd gone without talking to her since Edward and I got back together after his father died. She may not have given birth to me, but for all intents and purposes, she was my mother and I'd never needed her more. I decided if I didn't get her on the phone in the next hour, I was going to just show up at her office. Thankfully, it didn't come to that. By some miracle, the first time I called her, she actually answered.

"Hey stranger," I said. "Where've you been? I hope everything's okay."

"Things are fine. Great, really. Just a little busy."

"Are you free to meet me for lunch?"

"Let me see what I can move around, and I'll get back to you."

"Great." I sighed, hoping she'd be successful.

"Bella?" she said after a pause. "Is something wrong?"

"No. I just really miss you."

"In that case, work can wait. Meet me at Giumarello's at two."

"I don't want to inconvenience you–"

"You aren't. I always have time for you; you should know that by now. Shit, my next appointment's here. I'll see you later. Bye."

One of the great things about Esme was that she always followed through. Four hours later, she kissed my cheek and slid into the booth across from me.

Her smile was particularly bright, and her eyes were brimming with excitement.

"You already know, don't you?"

She nodded and let out a quiet squeal. "I'm so happy. I never thought this would happen; I'd completely given up hope."

"Interesting. You always said you didn't care one way or the other."

"Oh, I know I did, but that wasn't entirely true. I just didn't want to expect it, or set myself up for disappointment. Besides, it's not like my happiness depends upon it. Joy and fulfillment come in many forms. I don't need this in my life, but I'd be lying if I didn't miss having it."

"You'll feel differently the first time you have to clean up shit," I said, laughing.

She snorted. "Not going to happen. I've never been into anal."

Huh?

"What are you talking about?"

"Butt sex." She mock shivered. "It's not my thing."

"What does that have to do with babies?"

"Come on, he isn't that young."

"He? It could be a girl."

"Not for me," she said, laughing. "I've always been strictly dickly."

I had a feeling we weren't talking about the same thing.

Holy mother of heterosexual fuck!

I clapped my hand over my mouth. "You're seeing someone?"

"Well, yes. I thought that's what we're talking about."

I shook my head. "No. At least, I wasn't."

Her eyes widened, and she flattened her palms against the table. "Oh my god, you're pregnant!"

"Yes."

We stared at each other silently for a moment, then began to speak simultaneously.

"How did you–"

"How long have you–"

She rose from her seat and threw her arms around me, squeezing my hands and brushing her fingertips through my hair.

"It's wonderful, you know—the most amazing journey you'll ever take."

"That's good to hear because so far, I've been an over-emotional, borderline-psychotic wreck."

"No." She shook her head and cupped my cheeks. "That's just your body adjusting to hormones."

"I'm going to suck at this."

"Why do you say that?"

"Don't we all turn into our mothers?"

She knelt in front of me, holding my hands on my lap. "The fact you're even concerned about that tells me you never will."

"Maybe...but I'm already fucking it all up. I promised Edward I wouldn't tell you. He wanted it to be special, so he framed the ultrasound pic and planted it in your music room. He was hoping you'd notice it while we were over there, but you didn't. He was certain you'd see it at some point over the week–"

"I haven't been home."

I smiled. "I gathered as much."

She gave my hands one last squeeze before returning to her seat. "How far along are you?"

"Nine weeks."

"How do you feel?"

"Not all that great," I admitted. "I have headaches, and I feel nauseous all the time. Stuff I used to enjoy doing holds no appeal to me whatsoever; I kind of just want to curl up and sleep."

"That's normal. You'll feel better in your second trimester."

"I hope so," I said. I then realized I'd yet to acknowledge Esme's news. "What's his name?"

"Liam."

"How did you meet him?"

She shifted in her seat. "Don't make fun of me."

"As if I'm in any position to judge! Remember how I met your son?"

"True."

The waitress appeared and began rattling off what seemed to be a ridiculously long list of specials. Esme asked questions about a few of them, and I started to wonder if she was stalling intentionally. After she finally ordered something, I told the waitress to bring me extra peppers and bread, and I'd let her know if I decided to have anything more. She hurried off, and Esme looked at me sympathetically.

"Morning sickness?" she asked.

"Except it's the middle of the afternoon. It seems morning is the only time I _don't_ feel sick."

"A lot of women are like that in the beginning."

"Tell me how you met Liam," I said, not wanting to change the subject.

"At an engagement party."

"How fun. Who's getting married?"

"Kate Fleury."

I choked on my water. Out of everyone she could have mentioned, Edward's ex-girlfriend was the last person I expected.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing. I'm happy for her."

Esme crossed her arms and leaned back into the booth. "Really?"

"Yes. I just don't understand why if staying friends with Edward was so important to her, she didn't tell him she'd gotten engaged and invite him to the party. He never sees his college friends anymore, and I'm sure most of them were there. When he finds out about this, he's going to be so hurt she excluded him."

"He wasn't excluded. Kate _did_ invite Edward; he sent his regrets. Since Jack and Kitty couldn't make it either, I made sure to be there."

"What reason did Edward give for not going?"

"I don't believe he gave one. Anyway, since I was also invited, I attended so Jack wouldn't give Edward a hard time. You know how close Jack and Kitty are with Kate's family. Someone had to represent."

"Edward never mentioned it to me."

"I'm not surprised, given how you've been feeling lately. He probably didn't want you to feel obligated to go."

"Edward making a decision on my behalf without consulting me—that never happens." I rolled my eyes.

"Would you have wanted to go?"

I gave her question serious thought before answering. I was never all that comfortable with the whole country club scene, and only put in an appearance there when it was absolutely necessary—and when I was completely intoxicated.

"Probably not," I admitted.

"Then what's the problem?"

I couldn't pinpoint it. I didn't tolerate Kate simply because she was important to Edward. Over the years I'd gotten to know her, and I actually grew quite fond of her. I wasn't at all insecure about my marriage, nor did I think for a moment that she was harboring any lascivious feelings toward my husband. I shouldn't be angry, yet I was. Then I remembered who Liam was in relation to Kate, and I was too shocked be angry.

"Holy fuck! Kate's brother is your new boyfriend?"

"I don't know if I'd go that far. Would a woman my age refer to thirty-nine-year-old divorced father of two as her boyfriend?"

"I think so." I still couldn't wrap my mind around the though of Esme with Liam. "Wow."

"Anyway, it's all very new and not without its complications. He lives in New York City and has two young daughters. I don't know if it's anything more than a fling, and to be honest, I'm not sure if I want more than that. But we have great chemistry, and frankly, the sex is the best I'd had since Carlisle died. You'd be amazed how many men out there who have been sexually active for more than half their lives still don't know what the hell they're doing. I'll take celibacy over chafing and a UTI any day of the week."

"Yeah, I can't say that I blame you." I shifted in my chair, sighing. "Not to piss on your Picasso, but Edward's going to be more than a little skeeved that you're involved with his ex-girlfriend's brother. Add to it the fact that I ruined his fun by telling you about the baby, I may be crashing at your house tonight."

"A bit of marital advice, sweets—whether you're at fault or not, never offer to sleep anywhere but your bed."

"Because I'm pregnant?"

"Especially not while you're pregnant, though I wasn't thinking in those terms. Men are creatures of habit; they don't like their routines disrupted. If you're sleeping on the couch, it doesn't affect his day-to-day life enough for him to feel compelled to give you what you want."

"That may be valuable input, but it doesn't help me with the issues at hand."

"As far as I'm concerned, there _are_ no issues. Yes, Edward's going to be a little freaked out by the idea of me being involved with anyone who isn't his father. Let's be real here—there's a reason you and he have never met anyone I was dating."

"Wait, you've dated people?"

She laughed. "Bella, I love you, but what the hell did you think I was doing? I'm a widow, not a nun. I just didn't see the point in introducing these men to you and Edward unless I thought the relationship had long-term potential."

"And you think this one does?"

"I think it could. Anyway, I have no plans to tell Edward about Liam until I have a better sense of how things are going. Now as far as your pregnancy is concerned, that I can help with. Edward doesn't need to know his surprise was ruined."

"I'm not going to ask you to lie to him."

"You didn't; I offered. I'll call him as soon as I get home and tell him I saw the ultrasound. I'd do it now, except I'd kind of like to actually see the ultrasound, in case he wants to discuss it."

I studied her face as she spoke. She looked about ten years younger than she was; it shouldn't surprise me that a man around my age would take an interest in her. Except in this case, Esme's involvement with Liam didn't seem weird to me because of his age—it was weird because her son deflowered her boyfriend's baby sister.

"Kate's brother?" I asked again in disbelief. "Really?"

"Really."

I knew it was wrong of me to keep this from Edward. After all, I was making a decision on his behalf. I could justify it however I wanted, but at the end of the day, it was no different from his declining the invitation to Kate's party without asking if I wanted to go. For whatever reason, he didn't think I could handle seeing his ex, and I didn't think he could handle his mother's new relationship status. Well, with one caveat—Esme's personal affairs weren't mine to discuss. For that reason, I decided to do as Esme asked.

"Your secret is safe with me," I said, not feeling at all hypocritical. "You have my word."

And she kept hers. Edward came home from the hospital that night with a huge smile, thrilled his mother could finally share in our joy.

After he kissed me goodnight, I lay beside him, exhausted but unable to sleep. My thoughts ran a million miles per minute, until my eyes focused on Edward. Even after all these years, the sight of him sleeping continued to fascinate me. Though his mind appeared restful, I often wondered if that was actually the case. I imagined it wasn't, that even in his slumber, he would compose piano concertos or think about his patients.

If he weren't mine, I wouldn't think it was fair that someone who possessed such talent and intelligence should also be so incredibly beautiful. Meanwhile, as he got older, his looks only got better. His jaw that once had a roundness of youth, was now chiseled, angular. The slight pudge he'd put on during medical school had melted away, leaving a muscular physique as visually stunning as anything displayed in the Art Museum. At twenty-nine years old, Edward could have been Michelangelo's _David_, except more handsome and with a bigger dick.

I should have wanted to sit on that dick, but I didn't. Not only did I have no interest in sex since getting pregnant, but I was still pissed at him over his failure to tell me about Kate's engagement party. My rational side told me not to be upset about, that he probably just wanted to spare me a long car trip and several hours of country club hell. But there was another part of me that resented his money and the scene that went with it and wondered if he made the decision not to spare me but to spare himself dealing with my insecurity.

Still sleeping, he rolled onto his side and threw his arm around me. His hand splayed across my hardened belly, and his lips spread into a small smile. I didn't deserve him any more than I deserved the life that was growing inside me—this, I knew. I also knew I wanted to deserve them; I just had to figure out how.

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**For those of you who want a refresher,_ Art After 5_ is on my website in its entirety for a limited time. Thank you for reading.**


	5. Second Trimester: Part One

I don't own _Twilight._

_Some Little Girls _is a Fandom Gives Back piece for Arfalcon, Ingenuefic, and Serendipitous, all of whom have been extremely patient with the amount of time it's taken me to produce it. After a very long block, this chapter just wanted to come. For that I should acknowledge two of my readers, lynsrob and bevey99. Their recent discovery of these characters helped me rediscover their voices.

Three of my beautiful friends have life inside them—Christina, Kristine, and Rochelle—and they inspire me.

Thanks to LJSummers.

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_**Second Trimester: Part One**_

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**

Still groggy, I rolled onto my side. As far as physical needs were concerned, this was one was simple—I wanted nothing more than the simple joy of feeling my body against his. I wrapped my arms around him—though the smooth skin of his back was warm against my chest, I wanted to feel it everywhere. I pulled myself closer to him, but no matter what angle I tried, I couldn't nestle my pelvis against his backside. A glance between our bodies confirmed the cause of the problem was breasts.

But not just any breasts—these were frighteningly enormous breasts with veins that were wider and more detailed than my the lines my GPS used to display highways. In this case, all roads led to my equally-enlarged nipples.

It wasn't that I'd never seen large breasts; I'd just never expected to find them on my body—and I sure as hell never imagined my areolas would one day turn purple. After carefully extricating my arms from around Edward's body, I sat up in bed so I could take a better look. With my eyes tightly closed, I bowed my head toward my chest, mentally chanting a reminder that it would be okay—that I could handle looking like a porn star for a few months. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. It took longer than usual for them to adjust to the barely-there light of sunrise's first moments, and for several seconds, I thought maybe I'd been imagining things. My eyes focused, and the resulting clarity of sight shattered any doubt that the knockers I'd hoped had been part of a nightmare were not only real, but they were also really, really big. I was about to panic, until it occurred to me that I hadn't yet touched them. It might be a long shot, but I could still be dreaming. With the fingers of my hands as far apart as possible, I tentatively cupped the undersides of my breasts. My ensuing scream was involuntary.

Edward shot straight up in bed, then turned to me, rubbing his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. No. I mean, I don't know." I pointed to my tits. "What the fuck are these?"

"Boobies," he said, smiling.

"I know they're boobies. But should they be this...I don't know...veiny? Not to mention the fact that my areolas bear a striking resemblance in color to heather Fiestaware and are easily the size of salad plates."

"Trust me, Bella—nothing about your breasts reminds me of dishes. Well...not unless we're talking about dessert." His smile widened, and his tongue swept across his lower lip.

"You don't think they look a little...I don't know...weird?"

"Are you kidding? It's like Christmas morning. My gifts are already unwrapped, but I haven't gotten to play with them yet. Something tells me Santa won't be the only guy who gets to come early this year."

He reached toward my boobs, but I smacked his hand away.

"I'm sitting here in a panic wanting medical advice, and you're trying to tell me my body is a winter wonderland–"

"Your breasts are completely normal." He rolled onto his side and kicked the covers away from his body. Though it wasn't yet fully light outside, Edward's biological sundial indicated it was time to get up—or more specifically, that _he_ was up already. "That being established, may I try out my new toys?"

The last thing I wanted was to be touched. I'd had no sex drive whatsoever through most of my pregnancy—even when my body still felt like my own and my areolas weren't purple. Thanks to morning sickness, we'd gone from having an extremely active sex life to having none whatsoever. I knew it couldn't be easy on him, but always I'd assumed he'd prefer it to the alternative—that avoiding physical intimacy altogether would preferable to him being able to tell my heart wasn't in it when he put it in me.

So I told him the truth. "They really hurt."

"I promise to be gentle; it's just been so long since I had a nipple."

I doubted I'd ever be able to say _no_ to him. "Okay."

He kissed my breasts with delicate reverence, and though it brought me no pleasure, I was relieved to find it caused me no pain. It wasn't until he kissed between my legs that I came apart in his arms, and though he was no longer touching my breasts, they responded favorably to his efforts. My climax left me tingling there and in a few other deep recesses of my body that seemed to come to life only now that life had formed inside me.

"Please?"

I knew what he was asking, and it had been far too long.

"Yes, please," I said, still trembling.

He might have entered me with measured thrusts, but he made love to me with abandon. After he found his release, he lay beside me, tracing his fingers across my hardened stomach.

"I could stay like this forever," he said, "just waiting to feel a kick."

"Even _I_ haven't felt a kick yet."

"Oh, I know. And you won't—probably not for a while."

"Are you nervous?" I asked.

"About the baby?" He shook his head. "No."

"I meant about work today."

"Oh, that." His eyes remained focused on my belly. "Not really. It doesn't feel like anything is different."

"Except everything is different. Today is why you spent the past twelve years in school. You're practicing medicine without supervision—that's huge."

"The only difference is that I have to pay for my own malpractice insurance now."

"Maybe technically. I don't know. I imagine it would feel kind of like the first time you drove a car without your parents, but multiplied by a million."

"Except where medicine is concerned, my mom is riding shotgun. She's going to be tougher to work for than Penn ever was, and you know it."

"Right. But she'd have to be in the office for that, and lately, she's been doing other things."

"What are you talking about?"

It wasn't until he looked at me with genuine confusion that I remembered—he didn't know his mother was dating. And I'd promised Esme I wouldn't tell him.

Fucking pregnancy brain.

I folded my hands across my stomach and closed my eyes. As far as I knew, Esme and Liam were still hot, heavy, and very much in hiding. Though I respected her decision not to tell Edward about their relationship just yet, I'd yet to lie in the interest of keeping her secret. Then again, it wasn't her fault pregnancy had rendered my internal filter as useless as it had my collection of size 34B bras, and I'd given her my word. Unfortunately, I also remembered saying something about forsaking all others in my wedding vows.

"Your mother's been seeing someone. She didn't want to upset you unnecessarily, so she planned to wait and see if things were going to get serious before telling you about it. I didn't mean to out her just now. I swear each week I'm pregnant, I lose an IQ point."

"How long has she been with this guy?"

"Off the top of my head, I'm not sure. A couple months, I think?"

"Wait." He sounded enraged. "You've been keeping this from me for months?"

"I wasn't keeping _anything_ from you—I was just honoring a request not to volunteer information that wasn't mine to disclose." I knew I shouldn't go there, but I couldn't help it. He was being too much of a fucking hypocrite for me not to call him out. "It's not as if I made any decisions on your behalf under the egotistical yet erroneous assumption that I automatically knew what's best for you."

"I know what you're doing, Bella, and it's not going to work."

"What?"

"There may have been times in the past when in the interest of maintaining marital peace I've conceded wrongdoing though I'd done nothing wrong and apologized when I was not sorry. This isn't going to be one of them. You're not the victim here; you don't get to act like a wounded party."

"There _is _no victim here. Sure, I neglected to tell you something–"

"A pretty big something!"

"Drop the righteous indignation. I _know _you've kept things from me."

"Of course I have, but never anything that actually mattered!" He shook his head, groaning. "I'm not mad at you–"

"Right," I said, rolling my eyes.

"I'm not. It's just frustrating. I don't understand why she wouldn't want me to know. I've never had secrets from my mother; there was never any need. We've always just wanted each other to be happy; this isn't any different."

I pulled the covers up to my shoulders, sighing.

"There's more going on here, isn't there?" he asked. "Tell me everything you know, and don't you dare use pregnancy brain as an excuse for leaving out crucial details."

There were many excuses I could use to justify my sudden anger—hormones, stress, lack of sleep—but I didn't want to succumb to any of them. Instead, I told myself that I didn't have to be one of those hysterical pregnant women—I could take some deep breaths, count to ten, and calm myself down. Then I realized he was being a fucking hypocrite. Sure, not mentioning the invitation to Kate's engagement party probably wasn't as significant an omission as his mother's relationship status, but it was an omission nonetheless. All of sudden, I didn't want to rise above my rage as much as I wanted to knock him off his moral high horse.

"I'll make a deal with you—if you come clean with me, I'll do you the same courtesy."

"What are you talking about?"

"We both know there's something you've kept from me longer than anything your mother asked me to keep from you. If and when you own it, I'll tell you why she didn't want you to know she was seeing someone."

"Your use of reverse psychology to as a means of getting me to swear to you I've never intentionally withheld information from you isn't working—unless of course you're trying to piss me off."

"That isn't what this is about; I have something specific in mind."

"Great." He rolled out of bed, sighing. "As long as I don't know what you're talking about, we're not going to accomplish anything. I'm getting in the shower."

I waited until I heard the water running, then I went downstairs to the kitchen to make myself some breakfast. When Edward came downstairs, I wouldn't look at him. I faced the counter, and pretended to be too focused on spreading jam onto a piece of toast to acknowledge him. Then I felt his hands on my hips and his breath against my neck, and he smelled too good for me to ignore him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm not going to pretend I've always told you everything, but I've always told you everything that mattered."

"Based on your definition or mine?"

"Point taken. At the same time, my mother matters to both of us."

"And I'm willing to tell you everything, but only if you're willing to admit it..."

I was holding onto something small, and I knew it. At the same time, I knew from my parents the easiest way to make small issues into huge ones—all you needed was a baby. Edward and I were already expecting one of those.

"Fine," he said. After an audible intake of breath, he turned me to face him. "My mother hired an actor to be your legal counsel for our prenuptial agreement."

"She did _what_?"

"Wasn't this–"

"No. It wasn't." I moved across the room and sank into a kitchen chair. "Holy mother of fuck," I whispered, covering my face with my hands.

"Bella, I'm sorry. I swear, I didn't know this at the time–"

"An actor?" I threw up my arms, shrugging. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"It means no judge would ever believe you understood the ramifications of what you were signing, therefore the agreement isn't legally binding."

"Why?"

Edward didn't answer, but he didn't have to. I was fairly sure I already knew. What I didn't understand was how a woman who claimed to love me as if I were her own could use a document on which my self-esteem depended to one-up Jack in their ongoing feud. And Edward knew...

"How long?" I asked.

"I don't understand."

"How long have you known?"

"Two million, six hundred forty-two thousand, four hundred thirteen minutes."

"Not that you were counting because it was weighing on you or anything," I muttered. "Does that mean you found out before or after we were married?"

"Bella, it doesn't matter–"

"The hell it doesn't! Before or after?"

"Before."

"Oh, god." My face was soaked, and it was getting harder to breathe.

"Are you okay?"

I wasn't—not even close. But I also knew he'd only make this worse.

"I will be as soon as you get the fuck out of my house."

"Bella–"

"Which part of get the fuck out didn't you understand?"

"I don't think you should be alone right now–"

"I'm not." I angled my head toward my stomach. "And you're making both of us very upset."

"I'm sorry," he said, before leaving the kitchen.

Then I heard the front door open and close, and I knew he'd left the house. I didn't know what to do, but I knew who to call. Thankfully, she answered the phone.

"Rose! You aren't in court, are you?"

"No, but I do have to work today. What's going on?"

"My prenup isn't valid, and I just kicked Edward out."

"I'll be right over."

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_**I promise an update won't take long. Thanks for staying with me.  
**_


	6. Second Trimester: Part Two

I don't own _Twilight._

_For Anne, Mary, and Sue—three of the most patient women in the world. _

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**Happy (belated) birthday, Kate.**

**Only the best. **

**xoxo, C.**

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_**Second Trimester: Part Two**_

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At forty-six years old, Rosalie Hale McCarty was a force to be reckoned with—not because she was a partner at a major Philadelphia law firm and mother to three very rambunctious boys. She was gorgeous, efficient, and didn't waste time with bullshit. When she arrived at my house seven minutes after I called her, she didn't bother ringing the doorbell before entering. With a Wawa coffee cup in one hand and her BlackBerry in the other, she breezed into my living room in all her flawless blonde beauty. If she weren't my best friend, she'd terrify me.

If I were to be completely honest, sometimes she terrified me anyway.

"Would you believe those motherfuckers were out of Splenda?" she said, walking right past me.

"Sure, make yourself at home."

"Thanks, don't mind if I do," she called from the kitchen.

I leaned back against the sofa and took a deep breath. The banging coming from the other side of the wall only added to my anger at my husband. In all the years I lived here, I almost never heard my neighbors. This was especially true of the past two months during which the twin attached to mine was vacant. Of course, today would be the day new people moved in. As if the pounding in my head wasn't already bad enough.

A minute later Rose re-emerged, her coffee in one hand and a tall glass of water in the other. She sat beside me on the sofa, then handed me the glass. "Calm down and start at the beginning."

"I kicked Edward out."

"I got that part; I wouldn't be here if you hadn't. What's this about your pre-nup?"

"What pre-nup?" I said bitterly. "For all intents and purposes, I don't have one."

"I don't understand."

"Apparently, I signed it without legal counsel so it won't hold in a court of law."

"I thought you used Esme's attorney?" Her brow wrinkled slightly as she took a sip of coffee.

"So did I!" Just thinking about it made me rage again; I was certain if Edward were here, I'd bludgeon him to death. "Apparently, she hired an actor to pose as an attorney."

Snorting, she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Just what I needed to start my day—coffee nasal spray. An actor? Are you serious?"

I nodded.

"Damn, rich people are inventive. How'd you find out?"

I thought for a moment. There was no way for me to explain this to Rose without outting Esme and her new boy-toy. As furious as I was with my mother-in-law, I didn't want to break her confidence. At the same time, I desperately needed to talk to someone.

"This can't go beyond us," I said.

"It won't."

"I mean, you can't even tell Emmett. I don't want him to be tempted to tell Edward–"

"I don't have all day," she said, holding of the back of her hand and rotating her arm at the elbow.

"Esme's dating Kate Fleury's brother. She met him at Kate's engagement party, which apparently Edward and I were also invited to. He declined without mentioning it to me and that made me furious."

"Wait, how old is Kate's brother?"

"I don't know, around my age?" I shrug. "He's old enough to be divorced."

"Wow, go Esme. If anyone could pull off that kind of age difference, it's her. Though the fact it's her son's ex-girlfriend's brother is borderline incestuous–"

I cleared my throat.

"Sorry, I'm not trying to be gross here." she said. "So as you were saying..."

"Anyway, this morning Edward talked about how his mother will probably ride his ass at work now that he's joining her practice, blah blah blah. Without thinking, I let it slip that she's not around enough to be hard on him. He asked what I meant, and I told him she was seeing someone without disclosing any additional details. He flipped out on me for keeping this from him, and I told him he was being a hypocrite and that I'd come clean with him if and only if he afforded me the same courtesy. I was expecting him to tell me about the engagement party. Instead, he told me about the fake lawyer at the signing of the pre-nup."

"Damn. Is that why you kicked Edward out?"

"Yes."

She opened her mouth as if she was about to speak then closed it, narrowing her eyes.

"What?" I asked.

"I'm confused."

"It's kind of a mess, isn't it?"

"No; I followed the turn of events. I just don't understand what the fuck the problem is."

"Excuse me?"

"The _problem_, Bella. Why am I here?"

"He lied to me."

"Okay." She drew out the last syllable and gestured for me to elaborate.

"That's a pretty big problem."

"That's all?" she asked.

"Isn't that enough?"

"I'm trying to remember last day I went without lying to Emmett about something." She tapped her fingers against her coffee cup. "I honestly can't."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. In fact, just this morning when we were showering together, I told him he was still every bit as ripped as he was when we met. Honesty is over-rated. I mean, if it's something that doesn't make a difference and will only hurt feelings or start a fight—why not fib a bit? Marriage is about picking your battles."

"Except this _does_ make a difference."

"How? Tell me something—do you have any intention of divorcing Edward?"

I thought for a moment. I kicked him out, yes, but that was mostly because I was livid and needed time to myself. Though there have been times I've wanted to kill him, I'd never once considered divorcing him. I couldn't; he was the best part of me.

"No."

"And we both know if there was any chance of him leaving you, he would have done it long before now. I mean, you're not the easiest person to love."

"Thanks a lot, Rose." I rolled my eyes. "That's helpful."

"What?" She threw up her hands, shrugging.

"Did you have a bowl of bitchy for breakfast this morning?"

"As if I need to supplement what comes naturally," she said, laughing. "Look, Edward lied. And I agree, it was shitty. But at the end of the day, it doesn't mean anything. So you're still legally entitled to half if you split up. You're not obligated to take the money. My advice? Get a massage and a pedicure and calm your ass down. Then call him and tell him to come home after work. Talk it through."

"And Esme? She orchestrated the whole thing. In a lot of ways, I'm even angrier at her than I am with him."

"Same thing. When you're capable of having a calm discussion, invite her out to lunch and ask her. If you're in a public place, you won't say anything you'll regret." The banging from next-door resumed; Rose paused for a moment, listening. "That's really annoying. How have you put up with it all this time?"

"I haven't. The other half has been vacant since it was sold. I guess the new owners are moving in."

"That would make me crazy." She turned her focus to her BlackBerry. "Shit. I need to get to the office. Will you be okay?"

"Yes."

She gave me a quick squeeze before rising to her feet. "Let me know if you need me to swing by after work—especially if you pussy out and don't call him."

"Thanks, Rose." I followed her to the front door in a bit of a daze. What she said made sense, I supposed. I knew this wasn't a marriage-ending offense. Still, I couldn't help but feel betrayed. Ultimately, this was about trust. I've never trusted easily.

"Hello, Esme."

Rose's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I whipped my head around to see through the doorway; sure enough, Esme was standing on my front porch.

"Good morning, Rose." She smiled at Rose before turning to me. "Hello, Bella."

"I was just leaving." Rose stepped past Esme but lingered behind her just long enough to mouth the words _talk to her_ before hurrying off to her car.

I stared at the woman I'd come to love as if she were my own mother, torn between telling her to leave and asking her to hold me while I sobbed.

"Aren't you going to invite me inside?" she asked.

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**Thank you so much for your patience; I know it's been far longer than I intended.**

**I'm going to try to update this daily until it's complete. **


	7. Second Trimester: Part Three

I don't own _Twilight._

_For Anne, Mary, and Sue. _

_Thanks to Raquel with a hard c sound like Colleen, never a qu sound like quagmire. Speaking of quagmires, she weeded through the one that was this chapter. She rules._

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_**Second Trimester, Part Three**_

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I didn't know what to say to her. On second thought, that wasn't entirely true. It wasn't that I had nothing to say to her; it was that I didn't trust myself to do so without yelling and crying and making a huge ass of myself. So I opted for silence, stepping aside so she could enter but not issuing a verbal invitation.

We sat in my living room and, for a while, the only sound was the banging from next door. Esme looked the same as she always did—her white button-down shirt was crisply pressed, her beige trousers were perfectly-tailored, and her black-and-camel cap-toed Chanel spectator pumps weren't yet available in stores. Most notably, her eye make-up appeared neither smudged nor recently applied. Either Edward wasn't at all upset with her for failing to mention she was seeing someone or their confrontation had no affect on her whatsoever.

"You're angry with me."

Her voice was quiet, but it startled me anyway.

"Yes."

"Is this because of the pre-nup?"

I shook my head, sighing. "That's only part of it."

"Then tell me what the rest of it is."

Evenly measured and void of emotion, her tone provided no insight into her thoughts or feelings. Somehow despite this, it didn't come off like she was being cold. If anything, her demeanor made me want to do a massive emotional purge and tell her everything. But I couldn't because I was pissed off, hormonal, and exhausted—a meltdown waiting to happen. Though something told me if I did flip out Esme wouldn't think less of me, that didn't make me feel any better. If anything, I was livid she showed up uninvited. She knew how non-confrontational I was; frankly, she knew better.

"I wasn't aware you made house calls, Dr. Masen."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry, I don't follow–"

"I thought my mother-in-law stopped by out of concern for me. But you're treating me as if I'm one of your patients, and I can't help but wonder if Edward sent you here to..." I raised my hands and curved my index and middle fingers into quotations marks. "...'handle me.'"

"He told me what happened this morning, yes. I'm here because the majority of this is my fault–"

"You think?"

"–and I feel awful about it. It's obvious you're angry–"

"Yes."

"What else?"

My eyes flew open. "Excuse me?"

"In my experience, anger rarely appears solo. I'd like to know what else you're feeling..."

"Right. In that case, may I offer you a word of advice?"

She nodded.

"Next time you want me to open up to you, skip the bedside manner and lead with _I'm sorry."_

"Bella..." She leaned forward and put her hands on my knees.

Unable to meet her gaze, I stared at her fingers instead. Like Edward's, they were long and elegant—so different from mine. As furious as I was with Edward and Esme, I couldn't help but hope my baby inherited their fingers. And their eyes. And probably their hair, too. I'd welcome anything of their traits, with the obvious exception of their apparent penchants for manipulation—that needed to die in a fire.

"Please," she said. "Look at me."

Timidly, I lifted my eyes.

"I think I know what this is about, and you're right to be upset with me. I put you in a horrible position when I asked you not to tell Edward about my relationship with Liam. Lying by omission is still deceit, and I was selfish to ask you to put my comfort before your marriage vows. I'm sorry, Bella. Please believe me."

"And the actor at the signing of my pre-nup?"

"Oh." With downcast eyes, she smiled. "I'm not sorry about that."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Uh-uh," she said, shaking her head. "That was the best thing I ever did for you"

My head shot up, and I found myself searching her face for some indication she was kidding. There wasn't any.

"You can't be serious."

"Oh, but I am."

"Huh?"

"I signed a pre-nup too, you know. Technically, I suppose it was a post-nup, considering Carlisle and I had already been married for months when I did it, but the end result was the same."

"You didn't want people to think you married him for money."

Laughing, she shook her head. "I didn't know about the money when I married him. I mean, sure, on the way to the ceremony he said something about being twenty minutes away from gaining control of his trust fund, but I didn't believe him. Carlisle was nothing if not full of shit. I had the papers drawn up because despite how much my doing so hurt Carlisle, I thought that's what it would take for Jack and Kitty to accept me...to trust that I wasn't some opportunistic white-trash whore out to take their son to the cleaners."

"Exactly!"

"Don't you see?" She paused, blinking back tears. "That's it, Bella—that's why I made sure yours wasn't legally binding. You had nothing to prove to me, but I had a very big thing to prove to you—that I love you. I accept you. Most importantly, I _trust_ you. I know how difficult that is for you to believe, and this was the only way I knew how..."

She slid out of her chair and onto the sofa beside me, pulling me into her arms. I rested my head on her shoulder and, as she stroked my hair, I did what I'd been fighting the urge to do all day—I purged. I let it all go—my fear, my doubts, my false sense of betrayal—all of it left me.

I wasn't sure how long I stayed like that—in her arms, crying out the events of the morning. I only knew that were it not for the water marks on her no-longer-crisp white shirt, there would be no evidence I'd ever played hostess to any of these emotions.

The sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door brought me back to the present. I lifted my head to see Edward standing before me.

From his mother's arms, I smiled at him. "I'm sorry. I lost track of...well...a lot of things."

He closed his eyes, and all tension left his face. "I understand."

"We'll have to get takeout for dinner."

"You know the what doesn't matter to me as much as the with whom."

I did, of course. And he knew the same was true of me.

Everything else was just paperwork.

* * *

**So, here's the deal. Despite what the self-insert mafia may claim, AA5 Bella isn't me and it's somewhat taxing for me to be inside her head.**

**(Insert rant about method actors turned writers here.)**

**Anyway, it's one of those things I put off and put off, and then I get all stressed out.**

**Then I think it will suck, and I'll never be able to capture her voice again.**

**I start to feel like Norma Desmond, and I have to suppress my urge to whine that words are overrated and I can say everything with my eyes. **

**Though I may be down with the drinking, old mansion, and generic eccentricity which accompanies this, I KNOW I can't pull off a turban. **

**So...**

**I'm thinking short-but-very-frequent updates from here on out. **

**Those of you who read _Art After 5_ as a WIP know I roll best this way—that it's easier on both me and my health insurance company.**

**This being established, I'll see you tomorrow (or the next day, at the latest). **


	8. Second Trimester: Part Four

**I don't own _Twilight._**

**_For Anne, Mary, and Sue. _**

* * *

_**Second Trimester: Part Four**_

* * *

Once Edward came home, Esme didn't linger. She said something about having an appointment for which she needed to prepare, but I doubted this was actually the case. The tension between her and Edward told another story entirely. When she rose to leave, Edward made no move to walk her out. I studied his face in silence until I heard the lock on the front door click into place.

"I'm sorry," I said. "It's hard for me to explain what this is like for me–"

"Please...don't. After all the time I've known you, I should have realized this wouldn't be a small thing."

"How long has it been now?"

"How long has what been?"

"Since we met." I smiled, knowing he'd be able to me an exact count.

"Which unit of measurement would you prefer?"

"Uh...tell me in days."

"Four thousand five hundred and twenty-two. Anyway, I know trust doesn't come easily to you, and I should never have violated it the way I did."

"I'm not going to lie and say it wasn't a dick move because it was. But in the grand scheme of things, it's doesn't mean much of anything. I'm over it now."

His eyes narrowed. "Are you serious? This morning, you told me to get the fuck out of your house."

"I know. I just..." I sighed. "I'm not sure how to describe it."

"Describe what?" He sat on the other end of the sofa and pulled my feet onto his lap.

This morning, I threw him out. Now he was giving me a foot rub. Physically, it felt amazing. Emotionally it was making things worse.

"I don't feel like myself—and not because I have porn-star tits and a Buddha belly. It's like there's more of everything. At times, it's amazing. But when I'm angry or upset, it's so much more intense than what I'm used to. Even when I know I'm behaving irrationally, I can't stop myself from crying and yelling. It's like my mind checks out and I'm possessed or something."

"Those are hormones."

"I know, and I hate it."

"You're almost halfway there. We can get through this." His was voice was gentle. "And I take it you and my mom are okay, right? You worked through it all?"

"Yes, but I'm more concerned with if _you_ and your mom are okay. I know you were angry with her..."

He sighed. "I don't understand why she won't tell me who he is."

"You _still_ don't know?"

"No." He inhaled as if he was about to continue, but instead of speaking, he studied my face. "I'm getting the feeling you do."

After this morning, I wasn't about to lie to him.

"Yes." I covered my eyes, groaning. "She made me promise."

"Look, I don't want to put you in a bad position, but you have to work with me here. The only way she'd keep something like this from me would be if she thought I wouldn't approve of him. I just want her to be happy—she knows that. It's hard not to think the worst—that this is guy is married or an opportunist."

"It isn't anything like that...just kind of weird."

I looked at his face. It was obvious he wasn't going to ask me to betray his mother's confidence. Then it occurred to me he shouldn't have to—that he's my husband and he should come first. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, fully expecting him to start flipping out the moment the words were out of my mouth.

"Liam Fleury."

For the first time all day, there was silence. Tentatively, I opened my eyes. Edward looked as if he were still trying to wrap his mind around what I'd said. It was more than a little unsettling—Edward has never needed time to wrap his mind around anything.

His raised his eyebrows then squinted. "Kate's brother?"

I nodded. "Apparently, they met at Kate's engagement party."

"My mom went because Jack and Kitty couldn't, and I didn't want to subject you to that scene when you couldn't even have a couple of glasses of wine to take the edge off. I never imagined..." He shook his head. "Anyway, I thought Liam was married. I _know_ he has kids. Kate has their pictures all over her Facebook."

"He's recently divorced."

"I was trying to keep an open mind, but you're right—this _is_ weird." He lifted my feet from his lap and went into the kitchen. When he returned, he was holding an already half-empty bottle of lager. "Thank you for telling me. I think I need to play for a while. Today has been..." His forehead wrinkled. "...different."

I felt like an asshole. Today had been his first day practicing medicine without supervision, and I'd completely forgotten to ask him how it went.

"Before you do, could you tell me how work went?"

"Fine."

"Was it what you expected?"

"Yes and no." He shrugged. "My final patient of the day was a schizophrenic. He isn't anywhere near as delusional as my mother."

Seconds later, he lost himself in Beethoven's Ghost Trio. Watching him play, I lost myself in him.

* * *

**Late, I know. But hey, three in a week (and _A Fall to Ruin One Day_ chapter) isn't bad, right?**

**Next update will be on Mother's Day. **

**So tell me. What was the craziest thing you've ever done while pregnant? **


	9. Second Trimester: Part Five

**I don't own _Twilight._**

**_For Anne, Mary, and Sue._**

* * *

**Happy birthday, Ashley. Love you to death.**

* * *

**Second Trimester: Part Five**

* * *

"Is it weird that I'm starting to feel sentimental about being here with you?" I leaned as close to Edward as the waiting-room chairs permitted and intertwined my fingers with his.

"Not at all. This appointment is significant. Theoretically, we could find out what we're having."

"I don't think I want to know—like I'll be more stressed out somehow. I don't know..."

He turned his face toward me and narrowed his eyes. "In the car, you said you wanted to find out if we could."

"I know. But something like this—finding out the gender of the baby—should probably be a surprise."

He looked at me as if I had two heads. "You hate surprises."

"I know." I slouched my seat, sighing. "But think how excited finding out in the delivery room would be—how amazing the moment would be for us."

He raised my fingers to his mouth and brushed his lips across my knuckles. "It's going to be amazing no matter what."

"It will, won't it?"

Smiling, he squeezed my hand. I couldn't help but think how wonderful it would be if our baby got Edward's smile? At the Art Museum the night he and I met, it was his smile that drew me to him. At sixteen, Edward's smile was awkward and unassuming, yet somehow also conveyed his kindness and intelligence. It was real, and it made me want to know him.

"You do realize that I'll know whether you want to be told or not, right? I saw enough ultrasounds during my obstetrics rotation to be able to tell a taco from a wiener."

"Hmm." I thought for a moment. "I still don't think I want to know."

He laughed. "Then why did you say you were feeling sentimental about sitting here with me?"

"I'll only tell you if promise not to make fun of me."

"This should be good," he said, rolling his eyes

I cleared my throat.

"Okay, fine. I promise."

"I was at a gyno appointment when I realized my feelings for you were real and worth pursuing."

He leaned into me and kissed my cheek. "God, I love you."

With his scent filling my lungs and his child filling my womb, I lost myself in the magic of expectation. As perfect as our life together was, I knew it would only get better.

Edward squeezed my hand and rose to his feet.

"Where are you going?"

He gestured to the nurse standing at the entrance. "It's our turn."

Since I wasn't having a regular office visit, I didn't have to get on the scale or pee in a cup. The nurse led us into an examination room, directed me to sit on the table, and told us the ultrasound technician would be with us shortly. The moment she closed the door behind her, I knew how I wanted to pass the time.

"Come here."

Edward crossed the room and stood in front of me.

"Closer."

He took a step forward. Though we weren't touching, I could reach him. Grasping his tie, I pulled him toward me and wrapped my legs around his hips.

Rubbing my cheek against his face, I whispered into his ear, "Please fuck me."

He let out a small laugh. "Uh, no."

"Why not?" I dragged my hand along his chest and went to work unfastening his belt. "Here we are, alone, with this fabulous padded table." Once I had his pants open, I slipped my hand inside his boxers and wrapped my fingers around his cock. "Now what do we have here?" I asked, rubbing my thumb across the tip. "Looks like at least _part_ of you wants to play doctor."

"Heh." One corner of his mouth twisted into a smirk. "And if we're caught?"

"We won't be."

After untangling himself from my legs, his hands moved under my skirt and tugged at my panties. "Lift your ass."

I complied. The moment my underwear was off, he entered me. His first few strokes were slow—almost tenuous. Then he cupped my bottom and slammed into me.

"Oh, yes."

"I'd keep it down, if I were you. We wouldn't want anyone else to know how dirty you are."

His movements quickened into a new rhythm. Even the palms of my hands and soles of my feet were tingling, and when I came, it was more intense than anything I'd experienced previously.

Edward's breathing was ragged; I knew he was close. With a barely audible moan, he pulsed within me, resting his palms on the table beside my thighs. He couldn't see the door open...

But I could.

"Oh my god!" the ultrasound tech said from the hallway. "I...uh..."

Though I couldn't see my face, I suspected it was the color of Edward's hair. Keeping his hips still so she wouldn't get a show, he turned his face toward the door.

"I know, I know—I'm a motherfucker." He shrugged, all the while smiling as if he were a little boy who'd just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "How about you give us a minute or two to compose ourselves?"

"Take as much time as you need. In fact, just come—er—I mean, find me in my office when you're ready." She pulled the door closed behind her.

We probably should have been embarrassed, but we weren't. I doubted we'd ever laughed as hard as we did as we cleaned ourselves up and changed the paper sheet on the exam table.

Then I saw our baby on the screen, and I no longer cared that the woman performing the ultrasound had seen my husband's ass and ball sack just minutes before. The tech took various angles and measurements but never once mentioned the baby's gender.

When we were just about finished, she turned to Edward. "Do you see that, Dr. Cullen?"

"Yes."

I looked back at the screen; all I could see were three faint lines. Then I saw Edward's face. His smile was huge, and his eyes were wet. I didn't need to be able to read ultrasounds when I was so good at reading my husband.

I knew we were having a girl.

* * *

**Later than promised, I know.**

**Hopefully, it was worth it. Thank you for reading.**


	10. Third Trimester: Part One

**I don't own _Twilight._**

**_For Anne, Mary, and Sue._**

* * *

**See this, Ashley? This double-update is for your birthday. **

**(I would have written anything for you; that's why I asked.)**

* * *

**Third Trimester: Part One**

* * *

I wanted to kill him, and I wanted to fuck him. I just wasn't sure in which order.

"What's wrong?" Edward stood in the archway that led from the dining room to the kitchen, barefoot and unshaven with his scrub pants hanging low on his hips. One arm was above his head leaning on the woodwork, the other rested on his hip.

That image alone was enough to make me want to fuck him. Add to it the fact that we hadn't had real sex since we were caught at my gyno's, my lust was bordering on explosive. At first, I blamed pregnancy hormones and his scrub pants. Then I realized Edward was far from innocent—he had to be torturing me intentionally.

"You don't typically wear scrub pants," I said accusingly.

He snorted. "You don't typically do laundry."

"What's your point?"

"I had to go to the hospital today, and these were the only clean pants I had."

"Scrub pants torture me."

"Oh, but they torture me, too—the 'real doctors' make fun of me. I'll make a deal with you. If you make sure I never run out of clean pants, I won't be forced to go True Scotsman in scrub pants."

For a moment, I forgave him. Then I remembered that he not only ate all of my ice cream, but he left the spoon and the bowl in the sink after doing so. I was back to wanting to hurt him—or, at the very least, to ride him hard.

Intellectually, I knew it was hormonal. I'd seen it with Rose when she was pregnant—intense, almost contradictory emotions would overcome them frequently in response to things that were no big deal. Eating my ice cream was no big deal. Not really. Except it was a big deal because the baby liked it. I could always feel her kick after eating ice cream. I was now far enough along that the kicks were uncomfortable—sometimes even painful—but I relished them. They reminded me that this was real, a fact I still had a hard time wrapping my mind around despite being in my eigth month of pregnancy.

"Would it kill you to wash your own dishes?"

His face was completely serious as he spoke. "There are some days I think it might."

Un-pregnant Bella would laugh. Un-pregnant Bella realized how ridiculous it was to get this pissed off at him for something so minor. Pregnant Bella wanted to call Rose for her recipe and make matzo-ball soup with his testicles.

He walked into the kitchen and put his arms around me. His chest was hard, and there was the faintest scent of the cologne he'd put on this morning. Maybe I would let him live—but only if he fucked me immediately.

My belly made it awkward, but somehow I managed to press my lips against his throat. "I need you," I whispered between licks.

"I need you, too. More than you'll ever understand."

"I need_ all_ of you."

"You have me."

I squeezed his cock over his pants. "I want you inside me."

He let out a low groan. "Oh, god. You don't know how much I miss that."

"Nothing is stopping us."

He placed his hand over mine, stilling my movements. "I told you I'm not comfortable with intercourse right now."

"I'm not comfortable without it."

"Bella, you're eight-months pregnant. You're not comfortable with anything."

"You're unbelievable. You're a doctor; you _know_ it's safe."

"It's not about safety," he insisted. "I can't bring myself to jizz on my unborn daughter's face."

"There's this thing called the amniotic sac, maybe you heard about it in medical school during your rotation in obstetrics? It seals the baby off from external elements. You could produce more come than the entire male cast of a bukake blockbuster, and there's still no way the little guy will end up swallowing."

"The mental image you just gave me isn't helping your case. And please, never mention our daughter and bukake in the same sentence again."

It was time to change tactics.

"You know, your parents did it nonstop while your mother was pregnant. You turned out okay."

"Oh, god," he wailed, covering his ears. "No, Bella, you're wrong. I'm not okay. I _was_ okay—past tense—until you shared that piece of information with me. Now I think I'm going to go throw up."

"You_ do_ realize you wouldn't be here if they didn't have sex, right?"

"Oh, I'm completely aware my parents had a very healthy marriage. Old houses have thin walls, you know."

I ran my fingertips across his chest. "You always said you wanted the kind of marriage they had."

"I think we have that."

"Do you think your mother would be able to go without sex?"

"I don't even want to_ think_ about that. And when I consider who she's dating..." He shook his head. "I'm really glad I'm a shrink because let me tell you—after I see my mom and Liam together at Kate's wedding, I'm going to need one."

I leaned against the counter top, sighing. "How do you propose we solve this problem? I mean, I can live without sex. I could even live without ice cream. But I can't live without sex _and_ ice cream. And then to have to do the dishes even though I'm not getting sex or ice cream..."

"There _is_ no problem. I suggested we move into a bigger place when we decided we were going to try to conceive, and you wouldn't hear of it–"

"Because I like this house. I like that it's mine, that I bought it on my own. I'm not willing to  
let that part of myself go."

"Which is your choice, Bella. But you know as well as I do your stubborn pride is why we haven't remodeled the kitchen. As far as sex is concerned, I'm more than willing to eat at the Bella buffet—even if decide to make it all-you-can-eat and keep your legs open twenty-four hours a day. But I'm not going to jizz on my unborn daughter." He shook his head. "I have nothing else to say about this. I feel disgusting; I'm going to take a shower."

He turned on his heel and went upstairs. Once again, I was enraged. What kind of man would take a shower—probably a cold one—when he could be fucking me on the kitchen floor? If this kept up, I'll be so cock-starved by the time I had the baby, I'll go crazy. I wondered if Emmett was this weird at the end Rose's pregnancy—if so, her world-infamous hospital-room blow job made sense.

In an ideal world, I'd fling myself onto the bed and cry into my pillow. Even this comfort wasn't possible—I couldn't lie on my stomach because of my bump. I couldn't for the life me understand women who claimed pregnancy made them feel sexy. I was the size of a whale and in need of some anti-psychotic medication. The more I thought about it, the more I realized, I couldn't blame Edward for not wanting to have sex with me—I wouldn't want to have sex with me, either. I went upstairs and tried to get comfortable, laying on my side facing away from the door. My silent tears did little to relieve my pent-up frustration and nothing to calm my biggest fear. Parenting was going to change our relationship and not necessarily for the better.

I didn't notice Edward joining me in bed until he snaked his arm snaked around my body and rested his hand on top of my belly.

"I know you feel awkward—none of this has been easy on your body. But I'm not lying when I tell you you've never been more beautiful than you are right now."

Wanting to see his face, I onto my other side. "You're just saying that, but thank you anyway."

"Why would I make this up?"

"You wouldn't, but..."

"But what?"

"You're twenty-nine years old."

"Okay?"

"I'm advanced maternal age." I made air quotes as I muttered the jargon that for the past year had been the curse of my existence.

He let out a small laugh. "That's a medical term meant to identify potential risks; it's not a statement on sex appeal."

"Yeah. Risks like my stretch marks, sagging skin, never getting my body back..."

"As long as I get your body back, I don't care if you never get your body back."

I rolled my eyes. "You're missing the point."

"No, you're missing the point. I don't think you fully get this." He pushed the enormous t-shirt I was wearing to my shoulders. "Let's get rid of this."

I sat up so he could pull it the rest of the way off, then settled back against the pillows.

"I love your breasts. I love that they spill over my hand when I hold them, that they're rounder and fuller than they've ever been."

"Yes. Too bad my areolae are roughly the diameter of a frisbee, and my nipples look like pencil erasers."

"They do not! They're perfect, and they're going to feed our daughter." He placed a kiss on of each my nipples before dragging his hands down my body and settling them onto my hips. "And these...these are new. I can't wait to see her sit on your hip. And this..." He rested his cheek against my belly. "This is our child."

"Sometimes, it still doesn't feel real to me," I whispered.

"The baby? That's how it is for most first-time parents. Until they hold the baby, it's too abstract."

"I have to pee every two minutes. Believe me, the baby feels real to me."

He lifted his head off my belly and scooted across the bed so his face was close to mine. "You mean us."

I nodded. "There are times I look at you, and I can't believe it."

"Believe what?"

"That you're mine."

"I am, and I will be eternally."

"Do you ever worry that you'll regret it?"

"Huh." He snorted. "No."

"What if I turn into my mother?"

"You won't."

"You don't know that. I mean, I'm a very selfish person."

"Exactly."

"Huh?"

"Truly selfish persons never wonder if they're being selfish."

I wanted more than anything to believe him.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better about things?"

I answered without thinking, "You can fuck my brains out."

He shook his head. "I'm not willing to do that–"

"I figured."

"But I would like to make love to you."

And he did.

* * *

**FFN is currently not letting me respond to your reviews. Please know that I love every single one of them. **

**Also, I'm participating in Fandom for Sexual Assault awareness. I'll be writing a one-shot, but I have no idea what. I'm open to suggestions. **

**Thanks again. **


	11. Third Trimester: Part Two

**I don't own _Twilight._**

**_For Anne, Mary, and Sue._**

* * *

**Third Trimester: Part Two**

* * *

When Edward came into the bedroom, he looked at me as if I was insane. "What are you doing?"

"What the hell does it look like I'm doing?" Shrugging, I threw up my palm. "I'm holding an icepack to my twat."

"Obviously." He walked across the room to the closet and began to change out of his work clothes. "I'm intrigued as to why..."

I sighed. This was the worst day I'd had in recent memory—the fact I'd been lulled into a false sense of calm made it all see worse.

By the time I entered my thirty-third week, I thought I had the whole pregnancy thing down. Not only was I better able to control my raging hormones, I learned not to sweat the small stuff. For example, rather than become upset when I realized I could longer see my feet, I rejoiced in the knowledge I would henceforth be blissfully ignorant of between-pedicure chips in my toe-nail polish. Instead of bemoaning the fact I had to pee every five minutes; I improved the quality of our bathroom reading material. When my hair started growing like crazy, I focused on its improved texture and density and made an appointment for a bikini wax. My expectation was that my pubic hair would be pulled forcibly from my body. It never occurred to me my newly-acquired zen would join it on the muslin strips in the trashcan at the spa.

"You know how my girl parts are more sensitive because of increased blood flow?"

"That has nothing to do with blood flow." He dropped his dirty clothes into the hamper and turned to me wearing only his boxer shorts. "It's because I'm a god in bed."

I rolled my eyes.

"What? You've said it yourself—had I lived in pre-historic times, Stonehenge would be known as Stonecock."

"You're unbelievable. I'm injured and you're looking for an ego boost?"

He sat on the edge of the bed. "Sorry. I promise to exhibit an exemplary bedside manner from here on out."

"You know how I've always come harder when I'm bare down there?"

He nodded.

"I thought that if I combined the heightened sensation from pregnancy with a wax, I'd have the best orgasms of my life. It never occurred to me increased sensitivity meant _everything_would be more intense, and I hadn't waxed in a while..."

His mouth twitched; I could tell he was suppressing a laugh.

"This isn't funny! I don't think I've ever been in more pain in my life."

"You've been waxing as long as I've known you. Is it really that bad?"

"Yes!" I wailed. "Men have it so easy–"

"Not me."

"_Especially_ you—you get away with even more than other guys."

"Because you're pregnant and I'm not?"

"No...I mean...yes, but that's not even what I'm talking about. You've never held an ice pack to your pussy–"

"Because I don't have one."

"No, because no one expects you to be well-groomed. When I sweat, I'm gross. When_ you_ sweat, you're sexy as hell."

"Right," he said, laughing. "I don't believe for a second you think swamp ass is a turn-on, but feel free to continue."

"Then there's hair. If you don't shave for a few days, you're hot. If I gave up the razor for a week..." I shook my head. "My sexual orientation would be questioned."

"That's just a ridiculous stereotype."

"Oh, I agree. But there are lots of people out there who buy into it."

Sighing, he laid his hand on my knee. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

"I don't know. Maybe some half-sours and a pepperoni panzarotti..."

"Think about it while I'm in the bathroom." He leaned forward and kissed my belly. "I'll run out to get it as soon as you decide."

I stared at my belly, wondering what the baby would want. After all, she was eating it, too. She should have a say.

"Kick if any of the food I mention appeals to you," I said. "We could send Daddy out for pickles and ice cream. It's a bit of a cliché, I know, but sweet and salty together is tasty. He'll get us whatever we want, you know. Never be afraid to ask him for what you need. He wants to take care of us—it's who he is. For the longest time, I didn't think people like him existed. I thought love was invented by marketing executives and forever was a myth perpetuated by De Beers. Then I met your daddy. He was patient and non-judgemental—he valued me more than I valued myself. He taught me what love was—would you believe it was something I had to learn as an adult? You won't have to worry about that, though. Your father and I love you so much already. He'll be even more wonderful with you than he was with me. He's smart and good and so responsible. He's a doctor, you know. In a lot of ways, he's more mature than me–"

"Check this out!"

I looked up to find Edward standing in the doorway. Though he was still wearing his boxers, his junk was in plain view.

He pointed to his crotch. "In an act of solidarity, I beat down my man-bush."

As much as I wanted to tell him I loved him, I couldn't—I was laughing too hard. I doubted I could ever love him more.

* * *

**I still can't reply to reviews. Sorry about that.**

**Panzarottis are deep-fried pizza pockets. They're a South Jersey food staple. **

**I'm going to try to update Fall to Ruin One Day tomorrow, and a new chapter of this will come next.**

**As always, thank you so much.**


	12. Third Trimester: Part Three

**I don't own _Twilight._**

**_For Anne, Mary, and Sue._**

* * *

**Just a quick answer to a question I keep seeing: **

**Pregnancy is counted from the first day of your last menstrual cycle, not the date of conception. **

**_Thank you to Linsey for pre-reading._**

* * *

**Third Trimester: Part Three**

* * *

After checking in the with the receptionist, I plopped into the empty chair beside Edward, sighing. The closer I got to my due date, the slower each day seemed to go. Though intellectually I knew it had only been thirty-seven weeks since my last period, I felt as if I'd been pregnant forever. The possibility my due date would come and go and I'd still be pregnant past my due date almost as much as my gut feeling it wouldn't. Any day now, Edward and I would be parents. Weekly prenatal appointments made not stressing out about this virtually impossible—I could no longer pretend we had all the time in the world.

"Is coming here as tedious for you as it is for me?"

Wrinkling his forehead, Edward looked up from his iPhone. "All of a sudden, you find this tedious?"

"Don't you?"

He laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"I take it you're no longer sentimental about this being the building in which you realized you had feelings for me?"

"No." I leaned closer to him and whispered into his ear. "My mortification at this also being where an ultrasound technician walked in on us in the act has eclipsed any prior sentimentality I might have felt."

"Now that's just silly. So a tech saw you on an exam table with something inside your vagina. There's something that never happens in gynecology! If anyone should be embarrassed, it should be me. Thanks to that little incident, my ass is now legendary in the medical community. Besides, have you forgotten when we're finished here we're having dinner with my mom to meet her new..." He paused, tapping his fingertips on his chair's vinyl armrest. "Her..." He shook his head.

"Boyfriend?"

"You got the boy part right."

"Don't even tell me you have a problem with their age difference–"

"That's not it."

"Then really—what's the problem? Is it that he's not your father?"

"No," he said, rolling his eyes. "Give me some credit."

"So what's the problem?"

He looked at me as if this should be obvious. "She's dating Kate's brother."

"Okay?" I gestured for him to elaborate.

"Come on, you have to admit this is awkward."

"Only if you let it be."

He snorted. "You'd think you were the shrink."

The nurse called my name before I had a chance to respond. Edward leapt to his feet to help me get out of my chair.

"We'll finish talking later," I said.

"Oh, I don't doubt it."

The appointment went the way they always did—checked my weight, blood pressure, and urine. It wasn't long after she left us in the exam room that my doctor breezed in with my chart in her hand.

"Two minutes and eleven seconds," Edward said. "A new record for shortest exam-room wait time."

Smiling, she dropped my file onto the desk and began paging through it. "Well, Edward, I'm told the last time we kept the two of you waiting, you put on quite a show."

"Fair enough," he said, laughing.

Staring at the floor, I pressed my hands against my cheeks in a pathetic attempt to cool my blush.

"Everything looks good so far. Let's take a listen to the baby's heartbeat."

Hearing my daughter was the only good part of my OB appointments. I didn't waste any time lying back onto the table and raising my shirt. Once the doppler was against my skin, I closed my eyes and listened to my little girl, knowing any second now my doctor would tell me the baby's heart rate was good and turn off the doppler.

Except she didn't. For a several moments, the only sound was my daughter's heart. Then I felt Edward's hand close around mine, and it didn't matter if I was only person in the room who hadn't attended medical school—I knew something wasn't right. My eyes flew open and focused on my husband's face. There was no mistaking what I saw there for anything but fear.

"What's wrong?"

"The baby has an abnormal heart beat," my doctor explained. "This is very common—more often than not, it resolves itself on its own. Sometimes, though, it can be a sign of fetal distress. Normally I'd have you admitted to the prenatal unit for observation–"

"She's full-term," Edward said.

"Exactly—the benefits of an emergency section far outweigh the risks." She turned to me. "I'll call Labor and Delivery and tell Dr. Cohen to expect you."

With my chart under her arm, she headed toward to door.

"Before you leave, may I ask you something?"

She turned to face me. "Absolutely."

"What the fuck is going on?"

"You're having a baby," she said, smiling.

I point to my belly. "This is hardly a revelation."

"_Tonight_, Bella," Edward said. "We're having a baby _tonight_."

* * *

**Rochelle Allison isn't the only one having her baby today! **

**Thanks for reading. **


	13. Waiting

I don't own _Twilight. _

_For Sue, Anne, and Mary._

* * *

**Waiting**

* * *

"How are you feeling? I know this must be overwhelming for you."

I wrinkled my forehead. "Right—as if you aren't at all stressed out by the fact you're about to become a father."

"Oh, I'm not about to argue that point. I was talking about all this." He gestured to the fetal monitor. "Not to mention the fact you've never been good at waiting."

"How long have we been in this hospital room?"

"Sixteen minutes and twelve seconds."

"Even _I'm_ not that impatient," I said, laughing.

Holding one of my hands in both of his, he sank into the chair beside my bed. "Are you scared?"

"Not as much as I was in the car." I angled my head toward the fetal monitor. "Watching that helps. The only thing that matters is that she's okay. And I'm not going to lie—whatever it was you asked them to put in my IV is helping, too. A lot."

He smiled at me and squeezed my hand. "Will you be okay while I get changed into scrubs? It won't take long."

"Wait." I tried to prop myself up on my elbows. After my third try, I gave up and pushed the button on the bed so it would do it me.

"Yes?"

"A real doctor will cut me, right? I mean, you're not going to be the one performing the surgery–"

"Ha! I _am_ a real doctor, and I scoff at your implication otherwise."

"You know how you're always saying you hate wearing scrubs because 'the real doctors' make fun of you? Well, if it were up to me, I'd rather have one of _them_ cut me open."

"One of the guys who makes fun of me?"

"Assuming he did his residency was in surgery or obstetrics...you know, something actually relevant to the reason I'm here."

"Don't worry," he said, laughing. "I have no intention of performing your surgery. I also have no intention of leaving your side. Operating rooms are sterile environments; scrubs are mandatory." He placed a quick kiss on my lips. "I won't be gone long."

For the first time since we arrived at the hospital, I was in a room by myself. Miraculously, I wasn't frightened, and I didn't panic. Instead, I focused on the fetal monitor and the knowledge I wasn't alone. I closed my eyes and thought of my daughter.

The sound of Esme's voice brought me back to the present. "Are you hanging in there?"

"I'm so glad came," I said, smiling at her.

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss the birth of my granddaughter for anything."

She sat beside me, and then I saw him—plain as day—lurking behind her in the shadow behind the modesty curtain. all semblance of calm left me.

I blinked several times then looked at Esme, unable to wrap my mind around what I was seeing. "Carlisle's here?"

"Oh, sweetheart." She covered my her with hers. "Of course he is! When you go into the OR, he'll be there, too."

Ghosts of dead in-laws in hospital rooms could only mean one thing...

Holy mother of fuck! I was going to die.

"Why me?" I whispered in a panic. "Why _now_?"

"You don't think he'd let you do something this frightening on your own, do you?"

Frightening was right. I chewed on my lower lip, wishing I'd paid more attention in church either of the two times in my life I bothered going. If I had, I might know what to expect now.

"Maybe that was a bad choice of words. It won't be scary. I just wanted you to realize that fear of the unknown is completely natural. I remember..."

The door swung open, and in strode Edward. "Have I missed anything?"

"If you only knew," I muttered under my breath.

The not-so-grim reaper extended his hand to my husband. "I haven't seen you since that summer on Martha's Vineyard."

Edward flashed the most convincing of his fake smiles. "Hello, Liam."

Liam?

Wait, what?

"Oh my god," I wailed, covering my face with my hands. "I thought he was...I mean...ugh!" I dropped my arms, groaning. "I'm sorry, but I'm kind of freaked out here. What the fuck did you put in my IV? It's making me...I can't even describe it."

"It's normal to be nervous," Esme said, stroking my hand.

"So you keep saying. What I want to know is if it's okay to think your mother-in-law's new boyfriend is the ghost of your late father-in-law biding his time in your hospital room before escorting you to the fucking Heaviside Layer?"

Edward turned to Esme. "I've never heard of anything like that, have you?"

"Great." I nodded, pressing my lips into a straight line. "You do realize that's totally what I thought was going on just now?"

Edward looked at me, his face tight with confusion. "Seriously?"

"Do you think I would make something like that up?"

I'd say the ensuing silence was awkward, but that would have been the understatement of the decade.

Just when I was wishing the bed would swallow me whole, I heard laughter.

"I'm sorry, Bella." Liam came over to my bedside and offered me his hand. "I would have introduced myself, but I didn't want to interrupt your conversation with Esme. As far as the other thing goes, I'm very aware Esme likes a certain type." He shrugged his shoulders, smiling. "Considering her hair was the first thing I noticed about her, I have no room to talk."

"I know what you're saying," I said, giggling. "Edward prefers brunettes. He approached me because I look like a girl in a painting he loves by Thomas Eakins."

Liam laughed. "There you go. I'm sure there are certain physical features to which you tended to gravitate when you were single and looking."

"Oh, absolutely! I'd go right for the guys with the bulges in their pants."

Just like that, Liam managed to put us at ease. It wasn't the least bit surprising. After all, he was Kate's brother.

* * *

**Next chapter tomorrow at the latest.**

**Thanks for reading. **


	14. Delivery

I don't own _Twilight. _

_For Sue, Anne, and Mary._

* * *

**Delivery**

* * *

Before I knew it, a nurse appeared and told me the operating room was ready, and I'd be taken to surgery shortly.

"Do you want me to be in the OR with you?" Esme asked.

The nurse cleared her throat. "Per hospital policy, only one guest is permitted into the operating room..."

Without saying a word, Esme flashed the ID badge hanging from a lavalier around her neck.

"...but of course, that doesn't apply to guests who are also on staff as attending physicians."

"Do you want me there with you?" Esme repeated.

"Yes, please," I said, nodding. "I couldn't imagine doing this without my mother."

"I couldn't imagine letting you." She smiled. "I'll go get changed and meet you down there."

She gave my hand a quick squeeze then left with Liam.

Once they were gone, the nurse continued what I assumed was her standard spiel. "As you are aware, this is a teaching hospital. Are you comfortable with medical students observing your surgery?"

I looked over at Edward.

"It's entirely up to you," he said.

"That's fine," I told her.

"All right, then. An orderly will be in to escort you to the operating room shortly." She looked at Edward. "Make sure you bring all of your things with you; you won't be coming back to this room. Do either of you have any questions before I go?"

I shook my head.

"In that case, good luck!"

She hurried off, leaving me alone with Edward.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

My tears came hard and fast, and I was powerless to stop them.

"Oh, Bella." He fingers brushed my wet cheek. "What is it?"

"Nothing. Everything. I don't even know how to explain it. I mean, I knew I'd end up with a c-section. Around here that's just as it is. And though general anesthesia terrifies me, so does the idea of being cut open while I'm awake. How will I not be able to feel it?"

"You won't; I promise." He threaded his fingers through mine. "You're going to be fine. In addition to the usual staff, you're going to have my mom and me with you. Nothing is going to go wrong; I won't let it."

And he didn't.

Granted, I was so flipped out I offered the anesthesiologist a blow job if he made sure I didn't feel anything. Then I found out he'd been Carlisle's raquetball partner, and I wanted to die. The needle he proceeded to give me in my back did make me lose all feeling from my shoulders down. It did not, however, do anything to ease my mortification.

They positioned me on the table and positioned drapes so I couldn't see anything.

Edward touched my face. "It's better this way; trust me."

"How many medical students are in here?"

"Three," Esme said, peeking over the drape.

"They're female, I presume?"

"Surprisingly, they're all male."

"They can see my vag, can't they?" I sighed. "My pussy hasn't been on display like this since college."

She laughed. "Trust me, in this context they're more interested in your uterus."

The next thing I knew, the pressure in my belly I hadn't realized I was feeling went away. In the distance there was the plaintive cry of a newborn.

"Time of birth: nine-thirteen."

"The same as your birthday," Esme said. "How perfect."

"Do you hear that?" Edward looked at me with tears in his eyes. "That's our little girl."

"It's over already?"

"Well, they're still closing you up, but yes."

"So that's the tugging I feel."

"You're not in pain, are you?"

"No. It's more weird than anything else."

All of a sudden, his eyes widened. I turned my head to see Esme holding a bundle of wrinkled pink skin.

"And here she is," she said.

"My god, she's beautiful," Edward said.

"She's a delicate little thing." Esme handed her to Edward. "She weighed in at six pounds, two ounces."

"She perfect." I stared at my daughter, completely in awe. "Hello, Carissa," I added in a whisper. "I'm your mommy."

Esme's eyes darted from Edward back to me. "Carissa?"

"We wanted to honor Dad," he explained.

"I think that's lovely," she said, looking down at her granddaughter. "And so does he."

The look on Edward's face as he looked at Carissa was one I'd seen countless times before—I didn't have to wonder what it meant.

He loved her already.


	15. Recovery

**I don't own _Twilight._**

**_For Anne, Mary, and Sue._**

* * *

**Recovery**

* * *

Once I was brought to my room, Liam politely excused himself. Then it was just the three of us, and Edward no longer felt compelled to pretend he accepted Liam's presence.

"What the hell was that about, Mom?"

Esme narrowed her eyes. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Who brings a date to the birth of her granddaughter?"

Esme and Edward fought so rarely, when they did, it caused me physical pain. I imagined this argument would have had the same effect, had I not been rendered blissfully numb by my morphine drip.

"I'd had two glasses of wine when I got your phone call. You know I'd never dream of getting behind the wheel of a car after consuming even a drop of alcohol. Not after..." She shook her head and folded her arms across her chest. "Besides, referring to Liam as my 'date' cheapens the relationship he and I have, and that's something I simply will _not_ tolerate from you. I _am_ your mother. You will treat my..." She took a deep breath. When she spoke again, her tone was much gentler. "You will treat Liam respectfully."

"That's just it—can't you get that? You've been seeing him for what—eight months? If you don't know what you are to him by now–"

"You misunderstood. I know _exactly_ what I am to him; I just don't think this is the time or the place to have this discussion."

Reprieve came in the form of a nurse rolling a clear plastic bassinet into the room. "Here she is. She's doing very well—just a little hungry. Are you feeling up to trying nurse her?"

"Yes." I looked at Edward and Esme. "Why don't you two go for a walk? Carissa and I will be fine."

Edward ran a hand through his hair. "Actually–"

"It wasn't a suggestion." My tone left no room for argument.

Ultimately, I was glad to be left on my own, though not because they were arguing. My first attempt at nursing was a complete failure; having an audience would have made me feel even more pathetic than I did already.

The lactation consultant was somewhat reassuring.

"Just because something is natural doesn't mean it comes naturally," she'd said.

They brought her back to the nursery for tests, assuring me that they'd cup feed her this time and they'd bring her back to me if she was hungry again. Emotionally spent and physically exhausted, I closed my eyes. A cat-nap before Edward and Esme returned would do me a world of good.

When I opened my eyes, the room was almost completely dark and, for a moment, I thought I was alone. Then my eyes refocused and I saw Edward sitting in the hospital equivalent of a flip-and-fuck, cuddling Carissa against his chest.

"You're beautiful, do you know that? You look just like your mother, and she's the love of my life. That's why baby girls come out looking like their mothers—so their daddies will take one look at them and fall in love. I loved you before you were born, but now...I have no words for what you mean to me. Your mother's had a rough go of it, you know. I can't change what she's had to endure, but I can promise you your life will be different, that you'll never doubt your value or wonder if you're loved. We love you so much already..."

There was so much I wanted to say to him, but I didn't want to ruin the moment. I closed my eyes, thinking I'd wait until he was finished to speak.

When I opened them again, sunlight was streaming through the blinds. My first cognizant thought was that I'd been chopped in half.

"I need drugs. I don't care what, how, anything. But whatever they gave me yesterday wore off, and I'd kind of like it back."

"I'm sorry, Bella. I'm told the day after is always the worst." Edward got up and pressed the button to call the nurse. "Unfortunately, they won't give you anything stronger than percocet. The more you move around the better you'll feel. You'll see."

Move? Seriously? I felt as if my intestines would topple out of my abdomen if I so much as coughed. He had to be misinformed. I reminded myself this wasn't his speciality and changed the subject.

"How are things with your mom?"

"Fine. She'll be here in an hour or so."

"And you're okay with..." I stopped. I knew what I thought I'd heard, but it all felt so surreal. I couldn't be sure.

"With her engagement?" He shrugged. "It's a little weird, but I know enough about him to know he's a good guy. In that sense, she chose well."

"Is the problem that he's my age?"

He snorted. "Uh, no. It's more that he's Kate's brother."

"Okay?"

"I love Kate—you know that. And though the romantic relationship I had with her happened a long time ago, it doesn't change the fact she and I _did_ have one. If my mom marries Liam...I'm sorry. Maybe I lack sophistication, but the idea I deflowered my aunt freaks me out."

I wailed in pain. "Stop it. I can't take anymore. Laughing hurts like hell. No wait, that doesn't quite describe it. It's more like an auntfucker."

"Behave." He smiled as he rolled his eyes.

"Sorry. I couldn't help it. But your mom and you are okay now?"

"Yes. My father would want her to be happy—he loved her unconditionally." He brushed my hair behind my ear. "I understand. I love my girls the same way."

"Plural?"

"Yes. Surely you realize there have never been two more loved women in the world than my wife and my daughter."

I had no problem whatsoever believing him.

* * *

**Just an epilogue after this. **


	16. Epilogue: Coming Home

For Sue, Mary, and Anne.

* * *

**"It always ends. That's what gives it value." **

**Neil Gaiman**

* * *

**Epilogue**

_four days later..._

* * *

"Are you sure you're ready to do this?"

It was the first time Edward had spoken since we'd left the hospital with Carissa. He was nervous; I could tell. And if I were to be completely honest with myself, I was, too.

"Does my answer matter? I mean, it's not as if I can go back to the hospital if I'm not."

"True," he conceded. "But I could get you help–"

"You're all the help I need."

"Really?"

"Yes—provided our next-door neighbor doesn't bang on the walls while we're trying to get Carissa to fall asleep. In that case, I won't need a nanny, but I might ask you to hire a hitman."

"You don't have to worry about that; there won't be any banging."

"How do _you_ know?"

"Because...uh...I'm your new next-door neighbor."

He had to be kidding.

"You're what?"

"I bought the other twin. Now before you get angry with me, let me explain. I know how much your house means to you, that you bought it and fixed it up without help. You're proud and independent, and I'd never ask you to change. I'd don't need to support you; I just want to be at your side." He reached across the center console and touched my knee. "And having a dishwasher wouldn't be the worst thing."

We turned onto our street, and I saw what he meant. Where there'd once been separate entrances to separate dwelling units, there was now a double door. He pulled the car into the driveway, and turned off the motor.

"There's still a lot of work to be done," he continued. "I figured you'd want input on the interior, so most of the improvements I'd made were structural—wiring and ductwork. For example, _my_ house has central air-conditioning, which it would be more than happy to share with _your_ house, if you'd like. Anyway, I hope this is okay; I'm starting to panic here." He let out a nervous laugh. "Please say something."

"There's a tire swing in our yard."

"You once told me you loved the one you had as a little girl. I don't know, maybe I got a little ahead of myself–"

"I love it."

"Are you sure?"

I nodded, blinking back tears. "It's perfect."

Walking into my house with my family, I doubted I could ever be happier. Oh, Edward had been right when he said there was a lot more work to do before the two units would function harmoniously as one, but that didn't bother me. If I were to be completely honest with myself, there always would be. It would be overwhelming at times, but I didn't doubt it was worth it. There wasn't anything in the world I wouldn't do for my husband and my daughter. At that moment, I knew. I knew without a doubt.

I might not be perfect, but I was nothing like my mother.

* * *

**It feels like the end of an era, and I don't doubt I'll be crying later. **

**The three ladies who won this as part of Fandom Gives Back (Serendipitous, Ingenue Fic and ARFalcon) have been patient beyond all reasonable expectations, ****and for this I can't thank them enough. **

**If someone had told me two years ago the short story I was kicking around my head set in the Philadelphia Museum of Art would grow into over 390k words covering over thirty years, I would have asked her to share whatever drugs she was on. To those who took this crazy journey with me from start to finish, thank you. It means more to me than you'll ever know. **

**'Til we meet again, **

**C.**


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